


share it like the last slice

by ladyalysv



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Baking, Coming Out, F/F, Getting Together, Rule 63, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-20
Updated: 2015-11-20
Packaged: 2018-05-02 13:02:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5249201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyalysv/pseuds/ladyalysv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coming out is less climactic than Bitty expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	share it like the last slice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [magneticwave](https://archiveofourown.org/users/magneticwave/gifts).



> a belated birthday gift in celebration of our friendship journey from "Rule 63!" to "#rule63forlife" xoxo
> 
> content notes: pot brownies make a brief appearance

FALL

"This isn't exactly a secret," Shitty says. "Your laptop screensaver is Halsey."

"Hey, everyone can appreciate Halsey," says Bitty. "She is beautiful and talented and did I mention—" 

Shitty continues, "Your mom took you to a Tegan and Sara concert last summer. You have a Justin Bieber hair cut. Your favorite YouTube show is _My Drunk Kitchen_. Also, _you play women's ice hockey._ "

Bitty scowls and kicks a pile of leaves toward Shitty. "So do you."

"Yeah, my point exactly," says Shitty. "Did you forget I'm a women and gender studies major?"

Coming out is less climactic than Bitty expected.

 

SPRING

Bitty spends a lot of time catching up on the classics during spring semester. Shitty makes her watch _But I'm a Cheerleader_ and _The L Word_ ; Lardo Dropboxes her the collected works of Sleater-Kinney. Bitty pays them back in brown-butter sables and from-scratch Hostess cupcakes with real buttercream and the little swirls piped in royal icing over flawless chocolate ganache. Playing on the Junior Lady Thrashers didn't prepare her well for college-level roughhousing or illegal checks, but her teammates were more than willing to let Bitty test her U-18 baking skills on them. Cara and LeTice and Madison weren't gearing up for the swimsuit competition that figure skating had turned into—they needed fuel before they hit the ice. 

So does Bitty. She saves her last cupcake for just before her one-on-one with Jack.

Jack is Bitty's captain. She is as beautiful as Kristen Stewart, as talented as Hilary Knight, and as fierce as Natasha Lyonne. Most of the team calls her Jackie O. "Hey," Jack says, skating backward to meet Bitty at the boards. "Ready to not get the shit beaten out of you?"

Bitty says, "Um." Then, "Yeah."

"Good." Jack claps her on the back.

Learning to take a check is an art. Sure, checking isn't legal, but if everyone played by the rules, there wouldn't be a penalty box for them to sit in. Even Bitty's got a couple PIM by this point in the season. Not that she trips people on purpose, but, well—shit happens.

Jack drops her stick to the ice. "You need to stop bracing so hard, that's how you get hurt. I don't want that."

She's so _captainly_. It makes Bitty kind of weak in the knees. "I get hurt all the time," Bitty points out. "It's hockey." She has a deep bruise on her hip from falling last week, a fading one on her arm from their game against Yale, and a scrape on her elbow from who knows.

"Take care of yourself," Jack says seriously as she glides across the ice. She makes everything look easy.

* * *

"I'm not sure I can do it," Bitty says to the camera. "I just—freeze. That's a legitimate reaction, okay? Flight, fight, freeze. I'm a lover, not a fighter. If it were up to me, we'd focus on hugging strategy.

"I just... I don't want to disappoint the team. They're the whole reason I came to Samwell. They're so great. Like, the friends I always wanted, always. And they like me even though I'm not tough. I don't have to be tough for them."

Sometimes Bitty's vlog feels like a confession booth, even though it's public for all to see. Once she gets this stuff off her chest, she feels better—baking-three-batches-of-macadamia-nut-blondies better. She brushes her bangs back from her forehead and continues, "I wasn't girly enough for figure skating and it used to feel like I was too girly for hockey. I don't feel like that here. Even though I can't drink the guys' team under the table like Ransom and Holster.

"I don't want to let anybody down.

"Especially not Jack."

* * *

In addition to Intro to Older Queer Media, Bitty enrolls in another informal course: Intermediate Gaydar.

Lardo is lying on the floor, nibbling on one of Shitty's weed brownies, while Shitty attempts to bang out a ten-page final essay at 11PM. "I agree that the KStew test had merit," Lardo says. "But, like... she's out. We've lost our ambiguous gay. Our Shrodinger's Lesbian."

Shitty yawns. "Or bisexual. Or pansexual."

Lardo flaps her hand. "Whatever."

"These brownies are kind of dry," Bitty says. "Oops. I'm sorry, Shitty."

"You're high, baby," Lardo says, patting vaguely in the direction of Bitty's arm. She ends up smacking Bitty in the boob, but not too hard. "It's okay if you're not polite."

"It's cool," says Shitty. "They're from a mix."

Lardo sighs. "I want a mix with weed already in. Bitty, can you invent that? You could have, like, a business. Bitty's Very Special Bakery. I'd invest. Shitty would be your number one customer."

"Totes," says Shitty.

Bitty closes her eyes. "Do you think Jack is... bi?"

"Uh oh," says Lardo softly.

 

FALL

Bitty's crush isn't a problem. It is 100%, absolutely, definitely not.

"Well, it's legal for you girls to marry in Georgia now," Mom says. "You could have a real nice wedding down here. I'd do the cake, and—"

"I'm _19_ ," Bitty hisses into the Skype window.

Mom beams. "At least it wouldn't be a shotgun wedding, right?"

"You are the worst," Bitty says despairingly. "I love you, Mom."

"I love you, too, sweetheart," says Mom.

Somewhere out of frame, Dad says, "That Jacqueline Zimmerman seems like a nice girl."

* * *

Jack's dad is an NHL legend and apparently there's some major strife between them because, hi, sexism, and no, Jack will not be playing in the NHL anytime soon. Jack doesn't talk about it. She also doesn't attempt to drink the guys' team into the ground, and she won't even play beer pong with Bitty at the EpiKegster the Haus throws to celebrate the end of the semester. 

Maybe that's good, because that's the party that Jack's ex crashes.

Kent Parson has a Stanley Cup under his belt and he _should_ be a total douchebag. Instead, he's just chilling at the party, playing flip cup with Lardo and taking selfies with anyone who asks. Bitty would like to hate him, on principle, but oh my gosh, _Parse_. And Bitty can't hate anyone who praises her cookies, woe be unto her treacherous baker heart.

Maybe she hears something she shouldn't, afterward.

* * *

"Look," Jack Zimmerman says, holding out something that smells a lot like a caramel mocha. "Give me a chance to explain."

It is 7AM. Bitty went to bed at 3AM. She is still drunk, probably. "Okay," she says, sitting down on her bed. Jack follows her over, dragging Bitty's desk chair along with her, still holding the smells-like-mocha. "Okay, say whatever—I'm sorry, okay?"

"What?" Jack says. "You have nothing to be sorry about."

Bitty was raised United Methodist, but she has a Catholic-grade guilt problem. "I was _eavesdropping_."

"I'm not getting back together with Parse just because he's asking." Jack grimaces.

"I wasn't going to tell anyone," Bitty says hastily. She takes the mocha. "I wouldn't do that."

Jack looks down at her seriously. She's so tall; even sitting down, she's looking down at Bitty. "I didn't think you would."

Bitty's cup is warm in her hands. "I think your dad should be proud of you. You're so great. You're great because you're a girl. I wouldn't like you so much if you weren't."

"I know," Jack says.

"I'm a lesbian," Bitty says. "Thanks for the coffee."

"I know," Jack says again. "You're welcome."

Bitty drinks her coffee, which is indeed a caramel mocha. She is definitely still tipsy, evidence: above, and she needs all the help she can get. " _I'm_ proud of you, Jack," Bitty says after a minute. "You work so hard, and you care so much. You don't have to, but you do."

"I could say the same about you." Jack takes Bitty's mocha away, which is terrible, but then she pulls Bitty's hands into hers. "You're really important, Bitty."

"I make pretty good cookies," Bitty allows.

Jack says, "Important to me."

Jack's eyes are really pretty—they're blue, pale blue—and she is looking right into Bitty's. This is like the section in one of those romance novels that Bitty's mom buys from the used bookstore by the dozen, except gayer. "I really like you," Bitty says. "Please don't date dicks. I don't want you to get hurt."

"It's hockey," Jack says, too lightly.

"Oh." Bitty's chest feels tight. "Okay."

Jack tugs Bitty's hands toward her, though, pulls Bitty in instead of pushing her away. "I don't mean that. I just mean—what happened happened, okay? You can't fix it. You don't have to try."

"I want to," Bitty says.

Jack bites her lip. "Date me," she says quickly. "Not because you're not a dick. Just—because. I like you. A lot."

"Oh," Bitty says in a very different tone.

She doesn't freeze this time.

* * *

_JACK IS DEFINITELY BISEXUAL_

Bitty sends Shitty and Lardo a group text while Jack is sleeping. In her clothes, because she's tired after staying up all night: Bitty's life is exciting, but not yet that exciting.

Shitty says, _Congrats!!!_

Lardo sends two dozen kissy-face emoji followed by a thumbs up.

**Author's Note:**

>  _you could have my heart // or we could share it like the last slice_ \- drake


End file.
